My Wicked Heart (Wicked Poison 2)

“It’s not my fault. I had nothing to do with it.”

August screams, “You had everything to do with it. Everything.”

She takes a step back. “Who even are you?” she asks. Before I can even say a word, August steps in front of me, blocking her view of me.

“She is no one you need to worry about. Now, leave. Before you end up like everyone else that’s associated with Josh.”

“There has been chatter, August. We know what you’re doing. You’re tearing apart what he built.”

August leans in close to her. “Destroying it, Mother. Everything he touched.”

“You’ll end up back there,” she whispers.

“No, I won’t.” August reaches for my hand, slides it in his, and starts to walk off, pulling me along with him. I turn back to see her watching where our hands are joined. She has an amused smile on her face.

“August.”

“Where is your car?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he stops and looks around, then turns to me. “Rich girl, where is your car?”

I shrug. “Not here.” His hair is now sticking to his face, and the water runs over his lips, making me wish I were kissing them again.

“How do you intend to get home?”

“Walk,” I tell him.

August shakes his head and looks back past me, to where I am guessing his mother is still standing before he looks at me again. “You can ride with me.”

“You don’t have a car,” I tell him.

“You’re right, I don’t.” That’s when I see the motorcycle with a helmet hanging from the handlebars. He reaches for it, places it on my head, and then leans down to strap it firmly in place.

“I’ve never been on a bike before,” I whisper somewhat in fear.

“Nothing will happen to you with me. You should know that.”

I nod because I do.

I trust him even after everything I have seen.

I trust him more than any person should.

Chapter 5

August

Rylee’s hands wrap around my waist, and she leans her body into mine. I feel her everywhere. How am I meant to leave someone I never knew I wanted?

And believe me, I want her.

But the truth of the matter is, I shouldn’t.

Her hands slip under my shirt, and her cold fingers splay across my stomach. I don’t push her away or even stop her from touching me.

I want her to touch me.

But I also don’t.

As we pull up to her place, Noah, Beckham, and her sister are standing out the front. They all turn, and her hands fall from my skin and pull away as we stop. She hops off and drags the helmet from her head just as Beckham starts walking toward us.

“Beckham.” She says his name, but it does nothing to stop him. His feet move quickly, and his hand comes even quicker. I don’t move because he does deserve to get one hit in, but that will be the only one I will allow.

When his fist connects, I hear Rylee scream. He hit me good. Firm. When my head flicks back to him, I lick my lip and taste blood. He pulls back again, ready to hit me once more, but this time, I catch his fist in my hand and push him back.

“You only get one for free,” I seethe. Beckham runs at me. He’s fast. I guess being athletic does that for him. But I’ve grown up with kids like him, been picked on by kids like him. And I have dealt with worse, much worse.

I sidestep the attack, causing him to miss and stumble past me.

Noah steps in front of Beckham and places his hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough, Beckham, it’s not his fault.”

Beckham’s eyes are almost as black as his sister’s right now as he stares at me.

“It’s all his fault. She didn’t even know they existed before him.”

“They knew,” I say. Josh knew, thanks to my mother. Beckham sneers at me, and Rylee moves to stand between us.

“He’s leaving. Go inside.” She points, and when she does, Beckham glares at her.

“You should have stayed away from him. Now I have to see him, and it’s all your fucking fault,” he screams at her. Rylee flinches and steps back.

“Beckham,” Rhianna chimes, stepping up to him. He ignores her and stalks past them and past me until he reaches the street. “I’ll go after him.”

When Rylee turns around to face me, her eyes are red, like she’s holding back tears that won’t fall. Noah glances between us then walks to where his girlfriend just went, leaving us standing in the street.

“Rich girl,” I say in a low voice.

“It could have worked,” she says, realizing what I always knew.

We were never meant to work.

Just two opposites who, though strongly attracted, can’t seem to come together on the right path.

“It could have, you know. You and me, we could have worked. If only—”

“Enough,” I say, a loaded exhale coating my lips.